


take me down (bury me deep)

by lost_n_stereo



Series: the darkest fairytale in the dead of night [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon verse, F/M, Future Fic, Unhappy Ending, broody bellamy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-04-27
Packaged: 2018-06-04 22:04:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6677080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_n_stereo/pseuds/lost_n_stereo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Canon verse. Post 3x03</p>
            </blockquote>





	take me down (bury me deep)

_War is exhausting._

There was a time when he wanted chaos. Hell, he welcomed it with open arms. A storm to make waves in a steady ocean. A sandstorm in a vast, empty desert. Anything to cause trouble, wreak havoc or stir the pot.

He was a rebel. A king. A leader.

Now he’s nothing but a pawn in someone else’s game. And he fucking hates it.

He’s tired of it. Tired of everything.

He’s just…fucking tired.

There comes a day when he’s just done. Done following blindly behind a leader that doesn’t have it together. He’s a soldier but he has a soul and he’s not about to let it be blackened any more than it already has been.

So he takes a page from his own book, the book he held close to his heart the day he hit the ground for the first time.

He rebels.

_Time heals all wounds._

But does it? Really?

It’s been weeks since Gina. Weeks since the actions that left him remorseful and empty. Weeks since he made decisions that cost people their lives and weeks since he saw the last person he thinks truly understands him.

Time doesn’t heal all wounds. Time doesn’t heal shit.

It dulls the pain. Slightly. Makes it a little easier to wake up in the morning and fall asleep at night.

But it doesn’t heal all wounds.

Not even close.

_One day at a time._

Wake up. Fight. Sleep. Repeat.

Same thing every day. Until the day it changes.

One day she’s gone and the next day she’s not.

If there’s one thing Bellamy Blake knows for sure it’s that Clarke Griffin is unpredictable.

One day she’s sneaking into camp and the next she disappears.

One day he can feel her sunshine hair under his fingertips as he hugs her close and the next he’s grasping at air.

There has never been a day that he hasn’t thought of her in one way or another. Never a single day where he didn’t think that maybe if she was there he would be back on the right path. She centers him and he was dumb enough to think that maybe he centers her too.

But she made her choices.

He knows what happened before she tells him. Her face crumbles when she looks at him and so does his resolve.

There isn’t an apology on her lips when he yanks her to him, wrapping his arms around her as the tears dry on her cheeks, but he pulls her closer anyways. He doesn’t need her to say she’s sorry, he doesn’t need her to say anything.

But he thinks he might need her.

_Never let your guard down._

They fight. They rebel. They conquer.

It’s what they do. They are presences on their own but together they are lethal.

Weeks turn to months.

The fight never ends, never ceases but he stands his ground, stands for his people.

Stands for her.

Need turns to want. Want turns to lust. Lust turns to love.

Love conquers all.

Doesn’t it?

“Clarke, I love you.”

The words sound so sweet, so perfect, so good, that he’s not even scared of them.

The look in her eyes does that all on its own.

“Bellamy…I…I can’t…”

She shakes her head, tears staining her face again and it hurts more than any wound, any battle scar he’s ever gotten.

“Why?”

One word. One question. Will her response matter, he’s not sure, but he needs to know either way.

“I need you, Bellamy. I can’t…I can’t do that to you. Wanheda, remember?”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m the Commander of Death for a reason, Bellamy. Everyone close to me, everyone that loves me…”

“What?”

She takes a breath. He watches the rise and fall of her chest, the way her body shakes as she struggles to tell the truth.

 _Her_ truth.

“They die.”

She shakes her head once and turns, running away from him again, and all he can do is watch.

Time heals all wounds, they say.

They fucking lie.


End file.
